Excerpts

They walked past the knots of celebrants as they strolled across the meadow.
"You must tell me all the news of Caractacus and your journey on the mission of
trade," said Boudicca, looking up at Venutius as they strolled through the tall
grasses of the meadow, clumps of buttercups and bluebells risen with the spring
rains among them.

"Caractacus is longer in council and less upon the plains or at the woodland
hunt," said Venutius, as he strolled slowly beside her. "Cunobelinus is tired,
and wishes soon to pass on the mantle of chieftain. Caractacus studies
carefully, for he fears Roman unrest upon the Continent, and he must learn as
well the tactics to keep the strength of the Silures from the fierce tribes of
the south which attack the gates and raid the fields."

"Cunobelinus has assigned to me the order of the nobles' lands," said Venutius,
as he continued to stroll beside her, "and, in respect for my father, whose
ancestors, before the Roman conquest, were tribal chieftains, he has assigned
to me to open further the routes of trade upon the Continent."

"Caractacus is pleased with this assignment," he added, “as he has bade me to
listen as I travel to talk of the Roman empire, to allow him warning to make
alignments if Rome makes plans to sail in ships of conquest for our shores."

Venutius finished his talk as they reached the edge of the sacred grove. "Oh,
Venutius," said Boudicca, "we must walk through the grove to ask the blessings
of Beltane from Sequanna along the sacred stream where she lies most pure."

Venutius chuckled as he parted the brush for the pair to reach the open path.
As they trod the path, Venutius reached for the limb of an ancient oak. "I
shall carve you a likeness of Sequanna that you may fling upon the waters of
the stream and secure her fullest blessings," he laughed, as he pulled from the
sheaf about his waist a short hunting knife to part from the limb a hefty
branch.

They trod the paths to reach the stream and dropped upon the grasses beside its
waters. Venutius whittled slowly in the moonlight, the branch of the oak soon a
likeness of the Beltane goddess. He stood, and lifted Boudicca to her feet as
he handed her gently the likeness of Sequanna. As she flung the oaken likeness
upon the waters, Venutius put his hands upon her shoulders to turn her toward
him. "Boudicca," he said, as he looked down upon her, "I leave soon for the
Continent. But, I shall send you word as I go."

He bent down to kiss her upon her lips, the scent of the blossoms entwined in
her tresses wafting about them. As he pulled back, he took her hands in his. "I
shall return," he said, as he looked upon her face aglow in the moonlight, "and
when I do, we will ride the plains and pick the blossoms along the banks of the
Devon River and tread the woodland paths of the sacred grove as we always
have."

They walked back across the meadow, lost in small talk and in silence, the
future crowding their thoughts. They reached the hillside as the Beltane
announcements had just begun, births and justice meted out, new landowners, new
marriage banns, and those who had gone through the rites of Beltane passage. As
Diviticus was handing down these pronouncements, then Votorix took his place
upon the hassock above the crowd, silencing it by his presence.

"I would like to make an announcement," he said, as only the noise of crickets
rose to fill the silence. He paused, then continued. "I have made a match for
the Princess Boudicca. She will be joined with the King Prasutagus, chieftain
of the mighty Iceni tribe. May the match be bountiful, and our two tribes
prosper together."

As he spoke, Boudicca and Venutius stood, silently clasping hands at the edge
of the crowd.

• • •

Boudicca stood at the top of a hill, her hand above her brow, shading her eyes
to view the valley below. Her warriors had sacked and plundered a number of
smaller tribes with allegiance to the Romans, and had gathered a larger number
who were bent on fighting for their freedom, swelling the numbers of Celtic
warriors which now numbered in the thousands.

With victory behind them, and Seutonius and the Roman army headed for Mona to
rid the island of the Druids, they had decided to attack Londinium, the largest
city of the province, and a stronghold for Roman trade. Though densely
populated, its occupants were unarmed, the hub of their activity centered on
trade ships and merchants.

As Boudicca stood, she knew the valley below lay very near the thriving city
built along the sea. A port to carry Celtic goods to Rome, crafted at the
expense of the needs upon the island. Beautifully woven fabrics, jewelry made
from the coral beneath the sea, urns of molded clay, goblets of gold and silver,
tables and chairs chiseled from the oaks and maples of the Britons’ woodlands.
And, the swords and breastplates to protect an army of their oppressors.

She must meet with the chieftains of every tribe that joined them, and with her
own council of Indomarius and her seasoned warriors. She must bring unity to
tribes who once knew only independence, and with them lay out a plan of attack
that would level Londinium and render it useless as a port along the Roman
trade route.

As she walked the grasses of the hillside, lush with the brilliant gold of the
autumn gorse and the pale lavender of the heather, she thought of Alaina and
Valeda. She prayed to Sequanna to return to them the peace and the freedom of
their childhood.

Then, she headed for the valley below, where the Celts had camped for three
days to recover their strength and check their stores of food, flush with
victory and anxious to push on to reclaim what was once a thriving Celtic
stronghold. She found Indomarius monitoring the games of the young warriors who,
with flagons of ale washing down the dried game and cheese, might easily have
taken their valor to the death.

“We must call a meeting of council,” she said. “We must take advantage of the
distance of the Roman army and the distractions of the gladiator games and
laden tables of Rome for Claudius and the Roman senate.”

“I will round up our warriors and send our young Marinius here who tires of
these games to call the chieftains to council,” he answered, rising from the
squatting position he had taken to better oversee the actions of the youths.

As Marinius left with instructions and a designated meeting place in a glade at
the edge of a nearby forest, Indomarius and Boudicca strolled the plain, the
scent of the newly budding primroses and violets filling the air as they
walked.

Indomarius talked of his wife Delphia and his two daughters left behind. His
two sons, both warriors, fighting by his side on a field of battle new to them,
brought pride to his voice as he spoke.

As they reached the glade, they chose a fallen log to seat themselves upon,
Boudicca arranging her simple earth tone course linen tunic, held by a wide
circle of gold embossed with the Iceni crest, about her, waiting for the chiefs
and her Iceni council to join them. She threw over it a crimson mantle, warding
off the chill of the late autumn afternoon. As they sat, squirrels scurried
beneath the trees, a red fox ran for cover, and an acorn, dropped from the
mouth of a startled squirrel on a branch above them, fell nearly at their feet.

As the chiefs assembled, Boudicca fell silent, waiting for them to settle. They
chose the soft, mossy ground, covered with pine needles, sitting cross-legged
upon it.

When they were silent, Boudicca spoke. “I know you have never seen a woman upon
the field of battle,” she said, “But, the minstrels sing of two great queens
who led their tribes to victory in battle.”

She paused, looking at each chief as she stopped. Then, she continued. “But, I
fight not as Iceni queen, but as an Iceni woman and daughter of the ancients.
To avenge the wrongs of the Romans upon me and upon my daughters.”

She paused once again, raising her voice over the clatter of the birds as she
continued. “I will lead you to freedom,” she said. “I will fight to the death
as our ancestors fought before us.”